The Dinner Party
by anakinlove
Summary: Bruce gets himself in a bit of a sticky situation when a buisness parter to Wayne Enterprises wants to join him and his sons for dinner, all four of them. Getting the three of them to behave themselves for more than two and a half seconds is hard enough. Poor Bruce.
1. Chapter 1

"So, where did the general keep his armies? Give up, give up? In his sleevies!" The whole room erupted into polite laughter, all but one individual, who burst into the hearty Irish chuckle he was so well known for.

"Ahh, Brucie lad, that was a good one", Mr. Tibbles said, wiping the tears from his eyes and twisting his luxurious curly red mustache, a gesture he often partook of when he was amused. "Your little ten year old is quite witty, isn't he?" Bruce Wayne, C.E.O. of Wayne enterprises, nodded, deciding not to mention that the son who had told the joke was not ten, but twenty seven; better Tibbles thought Damian had a sense of humor, and gave everyone his characteristic "I'm about to land another business deal" smirk.

Although Bruce was really not much of a businessman at heart, the rigors of the corporate world could be rather exciting at times and the deal he was now sure he had in the bag had taken him over six months to land. "So", said Bruce, "shall we get to the final arrangements?"

At those words, the board members, who had been awkwardly staring at each other for the time from which the joke had been told to that time (none of them had gotten it) all jumped into action, readying the documents they had in preparation for the deal of the decade.

"Not so fast", Mr. Tibbles said, placing his hands on the table in front of him and interlacing his fingers.

"I thought we had finished all negotiations", Bruce said slowly, gritting his teeth and holding back all his annoyance behind a barely pleasant tone. The vein in his forehead throbbed. hat stupid CEO had all but worn his patience completely through with his constant delays and endless maneuvers to get the best deal possible. Bruce Wayne was absolutely sick of it. He stared at the Irishman's receding hairline, imagining a large knife sticking out of it. He shook his head. Damian must be getting to him.

"Well", Mr. Tibbles continued, "You seem like such a family man Mr. Wayne, I would love to meet your merry charges. How many do you have? Four boys if I remember correctly, Richard, Timothy, Damian and ohh yes Jason."

"Actually Mr. Tibbles, about Jason…"

"What about him?" Mr. Tibbles asked suspiciously.

'What am I supposed to tell him', Bruce thought frantically, 'I can't exactly say I killed him and then he came back to life.' Suddenly, the businessman regretted milking the family angle so much.

If there was one thing Mr. Tibbles valued even more than money, it was family and, because Bruce just so happened to have raised three boys and was in the process of raising a fourth, he had assumed that would help along the proceedings. It had, but now it seemed to have made things worse.

"He's uhh, he's…he's on a business trip."

"Well, fly 'em in me lad, you have plenty of funds at your disposal."

"But I…"

"No, no, no, I won't take no for an answer. He will be coming to this dinner."

"Di…di…dinner", Bruce stammered frantically, "I'm not sure dinner is such a good idea. How about we go somewhere else, like to a zoo. I think my family would fit in much better in, I mean, at a zoo. So, zoo it is, I'll make the preparations."

"No, no, no, Mr. Wayne", Mr. Tibbles said, "not a zoo. I want to see them at a dinner. My four sons are coming in as well and I believe they're about the same ages. I want us all to meet up at the Sunbird at six o' clock. I've already made reservations." Bruce gulped. The Sunbird, probably the fanciest restaurant in the city. Just perfect.

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's past Damian's bedtime and the little guy gets so cranky if he doesn't get into bed on time."

"Make an exception, I simply won't take no for an answer me lad."

Bruce, knowing he was defeated, heaved a great sigh and said, "Ohh alright, what day."

"Two days from now laddie, you won't be sorry. Ohh we'll have just such a gay old time."

"Yea, yea, gay old time. I guess I better get home." Mr. Tibbles nodded and watched as Bruce slowly picked up his things, walking out of the conference room. It might have been just his imagination, but he swore he could hear bells tolling, the kind that signaled a particularly nasty execution.

0000000000000000

Bruce walked into the manor, feet dragging across the carpet. "YOU KNOW WHAT DAMIAN RHYMES WITH? IT RYHMES WITH LAMIAN, BECAUSE YOU'RE SO LAME."

"YEA WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT TIM RHYMES WITH. TIM RHYMES WITH FUCK, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU AND CONNER DO."

"Tim does not rhyme with fuck."

"It does if I say it does. Tim and Conner sitting in a tree, F. U. C. K. I. N. G."

"Quit it Damian, me and Conner are just friends and you know it."

"Conner doesn't." Tim Drake gave a mighty roar, much like a charging elephant might make, and dove at Damian, landing on top of him at pulling on the younger boy's hair until he screamed. Bruce gave them a dour look and walked through the living room.

Damian quickly overpowered Tim and started gnawing on his arm. "Bruce", Tim screamed, "help!" But, Bruce paid him no heed. He walked right through to where Alfred was cleaning the kitchen.

Bruce glanced at the television, which the aging butler had on, and watching with a sinking heart as his second eldest son blew up an office building. Dick was chattering loudly on his cell phone, sitting at the table, which was covered in tiny multicolored shot glasses, most of them empty.

He hiccupped and said, "Wally, I'm on my sixteenth!"

"Father", Damian screamed from the other room, "Drake's trying to MURDER me!"

"Alfred", Bruce moaned, collapsing at the bar, "What am I gonna do?"

"About what sir?" Alfred asked.

"Mr. Tibbles wants me to go to dinner with him and he wants me to take my boys to meet his boys."

"What's wrong with that sir?" Alfred asked, wiping down the counter before putting a tall glass of orange juice in front of Bruce. The master of the house took it gratefully. He had taken a liking to orange juice over the past year, something Dick had gotten him into.

"Well", Bruce continued, wiping his mouth, "his sons are so cultured and refined and mine are…well…just look at them." He gesture vaguely around the kitchen, where Damian and Tim had just rolled in, clawing at each other like alley cats, Dick chattering and downing another shot glass and Jason grinning into the camera like the homicidal manic he was before darting away into the night. Alfred shrugged.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Die", Bruce replied. Then, deciding he'd had enough of the ruckus Damian and Tim were making, leaned down and grabbed them both by their collars. "Rooms now", he roared.

"I don't even live here anymore", Tim whimpered.

"I don't care, go!" Bruce replied. Tim and Damian cast each other murderous looks before stalking out of the kitchen.

"You showed them Bruce", Dick hiccupped. Bruce turned his angry glare on his drunken eldest, who was gazing blankly in his direction.

"You too", he said, "Out!" Dick shrugged and staggered up, swaying back and forth.

"We'll finish this, hic, tomorrow Wally. Night, night, don't let the bed bugs, hic, bite." He hung up the phone and it slipped from his shaking fingers, hitting the ground with a thud. "Bruce", he giggled, "Bruuuuuce, you're my best friend Bruuuuuuce, I love you so much." He slumped against Bruce's chest, giggling and hiccupping. Bruce rolled his eyes and threw Dick over one shoulder.

"Alfred", he moaned, "I'm gonna die."

"Of course sir, I'll order yellow daffodils for your funeral. I know how much you love the color yellow." Bruce cast him a dark look, and dragged Dick up the stairs.

"Puppies, I love Puppies, Puppies, Puppies, Puppies. Bruce, will you buy me a puppy, a little puppy with fluffy, hic, paws."

"Shut up Dick."


	2. Chapter 2

Nightwing, suffering from a hangover, was not in the mood to go hunting, especially hunting for his younger brother on the streets of Gotham at night when it was roughly two degrees outside. This was not the way he wanted to spend his evening. He wanted to spend his evening with ginger ail, a heating pad and a cuddly blanket, but that was not to be.

"Bruce", he whined, "Why does Jason have to come to this stupid party anyway? He's not even supposed to be alive."

"Because", Batman replied, irritated that his eldest was even bothering to question him, "Mr. Tibbles seems to think that he's alive and I have to keep up the façade so I don't lose this stupid deal."

"Why do you even need the deal in the first place?" Red Robin asked.

"The company needs it for various reason", Batman snapped, "and if Lex Corp. steals another deal from me, I'll murder someone." Nightwing rolled his eyes. He didn't really care about big business and he didn't understand it. As far as he was concerned business = money and that was about all there was to it. The finer details were lost to him and he had no inclination to seek them out.

"Alright", Batman said, rubbing his hands together excitedly, "here we go. He's gonna come, I can feel it."

"This is such a imbecilic plan Grayson", Robin muttered, "Todd is stupid, but he is not this stupid."

"Well", Nightwing replied, pressing himself to Robin since he was freezing and Robin's little body was warm, "I think your dad's going for, 'it's so stupid it has to work' although I'm not so sure I agree with him on this one. Get over here Tim and cover my left side. I'm freezing."

"How come you get to be in the middle Dick?" Red Robin grumbled, "I'm freezing too."

"Because you and Damian don't like each other. Now come my brothers. Let us huddle for warmth like penguins whilst Bruce broods alone in the cold." Batman rolled his eyes and gazed coldly down at the street, waiting for his prey.

The Red Hood was not really hungry that evening. No, he'd eaten his fill and he knew it, so his analytical mind jumped to something else, like buildings to blow up and havoc to cause. But, hunger once more entered his psyche when he noticed the sign.

Le Pain was the most prestigious bread shop in all of Gotham, boasting high quality bread that had no match. For them to be having a sale on bread was…unheard of. So, it must be true. No one would be stupid enough to try and trap Jason Todd, the Red Hood, second son of the Batman and scourge on villainy in Gotham with bread.

Gliding down to the street, Jason approached Le Pain, mouth already watering. Naturally, he was crushed when he found it closed. "Damn", Jason cursed, "and I really wanted some bread." Somehow, somewhere, ingrained in his troubled mind, Jason had a no stealing rule. It was stupid and he wished it wasn't there, but it was and he found himself unable to just break into Le Pain and take the bread.

Stomping his foot in a mini temper tantrum, he turned a tight circle and was about to head back up to the rooftops when he spied something interesting. It was a wrapped slice of bread on the ground in front of him. Jason glanced around and, seeing no one, slowly picked up the bread. He unwrapped it and gazed at the flaky goodness in his hands.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Jason bit deeply into the bread. An explosion of wonderful bread goodness filled his whole being and for a moment, he was transported to a far away heaven in the stars. Angels were singing and doves were flying and Jason was trembling with baked ecstasy.

But, half a second later, the rest of the bread was gone and he fell rather heavily back down to earth. Grumbling about how bread didn't go far enough these days, he happened to glance up the road a bit.

There, lying on the sidewalk, was another wrapped package of bread. Rushing foreward, Jason confronted the package as if it were an old friend and quickly consumed it. And then, looking around, he found another. Swiftly, he followed the trail of bread, each piece even more delicious and perfect than the previous, further and further down the street.

Rounding the bend, he came across the most wonderful site he had ever experienced. There, sitting in the alleyway all alone with no one to protect it, was a magnificently enormous pile of bread. Bread upon wrapped package of bread were stacked neatly atop each other, just waiting for him. Jason thought he'd died again and gone to heaven.

Rushing up to the pile, he dove head first into it. What he didn't expect, however, was for wheat filled walls to suddenly constrict around him. "Damn", he cursed quietly, "I can't believe it."

Batman gave a yip of glee and leapt off the building, vaulting across the street. "What?" Nightwing asked, in the process of picking at Red Robin's hair and chiding him for not taking better care of it.

"It worked", Batman whooped, "I told you it would work."

"It actually worked", Red Robin said incredulously, swatting Nightwing's hands away. Batman nodded and rushed over to his trap, which had worked perfectly and exactly as he had planned it. Jason hung upside down in a snag net, pressed in by the bread. He had a very grumpy look on his face and would have made a few rude gestures at Batman had his arms not been trapped to his sides by large slices of pumpernickel bread.

"I can't believe you would sink so low as to trap me with bread", he snapped, "that's pathetic, even for you."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures son", Batman said gleefully, practically skipping, "I needed you."

"For what", Jason asked.

"Tell you all about it back at the cave", Bruce replied, pressing a syringe into the vein in Jason's banana bread surrounded neck. The last thing the black sheep of the Robin's heard was Nightwing alight, murmuring incredulously to Red Robin.

"I can't believe it actually worked. Who's stupid enough to be trapped by bread?"

Jason woke up to the uncomfortable feeling of having slept sitting up with the added discomfort of handcuffs, which were chaining his arms behind him. Dressed in completely different outfit from the one he had been wearing before, Jason scowled into the bright lights above him where he was sure Bruce was looming somewhere. A moment later, his eyes acclimated and he saw the face of his "father", who looked tense and frustrated. Being of the opinion that a frustrated Bruce was the best kind of Bruce, Jason gave a smirk.

"So, what am I in for dad? Did I steal from the cookie jar again? It was so nice of you to change my clothes too, those others were getting a little old. However, I must admit, that seems a little kinky." Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Those clothes were full of weapons and escape tools and you know it. I had no other alternatives."

"Ohh", Dick said, "don't forget the hair." Jason's older brother suddenly popped up over his shoulder, grinning ear to ear. "I cut your hair. It was looking quite ratty Jason, you really ought to take better care of it. Once this is over, I'll give you a hair care tutorial and we can make sure those split ends never bother you again." He pinched Jason's cheek affectionately, and murmured, "So good to have my baby brother back again."

Jason gave him a bewildered look. "The hair was not my idea", Bruce insisted, "anyway, I have a job for you."

"And what makes you think I'm going to do it?" Jason asked sassily. Dick, who noticed a split end he had missed, hovered back over, snipping the recalcitrant ginger hair on the back of his younger brother's neck.

"Stop touching me", Jason growled, "You are so weird." Dick grinned widely and threw his arms around Jason, hugging him tightly before bounding back up the stairs. See you later Jaybee. Damian sweetie, you need a haircut."

"Hell no, don't you dare touch me with those scissors Grayson!"

"Because", Bruce replied, answering Jason's previous question, "I just recently acquired a new business you might be interested in."

"Ohh", Jason asked nonchalantly, "and what's that?"

"Le Pain now belongs to Wayne Industries and I can give you an all access pass with a guarantee of as much bread as you desire for the rest of your life." That got Jason's attention. Though he prided himself on being independent and not connected to Bruce in any way, there were downsides to that, one of them being not very much money available for bread.

"Fine", Jason grumbled, "What's the favor?" Bruce smiled at him, happy to be getting his way.

"Thank you Jason." Damian chose that moment to dart frantically down the stairs, yelling and tumbling over his own two feet.

"Father, tell Grayson to leave me alone!"

"Ohh, come on Damiboo, just a little off the top."

"Stop calling me that Grayson, leave me alone!" Bruce rolled his eyes.

"You just have to go to one tiny dinner party for one measly night." Jason gazed confusedly at him and Tim flew across the cave, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Stop it Dick leave my hair alone."

"Ohh, come on Tibbles, those bangs are getting shaggy."

"I don't even have bangs and where the hell do you get these nicknames?"

"Wait", Jason said slowly, "Where are we going to dinner?"

"The Sunbird." Jason snorted.

"If you wanted to take me to dinner honey, all you had to do was ask. What's afterwards, dancing?" Bruce glowered at him.

"I need you and your brothers to come with me and make a good impression on a business partner of mine. A good impression Jason, so be on your best behavior."

"Alright, alright", Jason agreed, "Whatever you want." Damian and Tim exploded from around one of the corners in the batcave and raced up to Bruce, scrambling up onto him.

"Protect me Father", Damian howled, wrapped around Bruce's neck like a scarf, "he's insane."

"Don't let him touch me Bruce", Tim whimpered, arms and legs wrapped around Bruce's middle. Dick bounded out excitedly and, spying his brothers, rushed towards them. Bruce grabbed him by the arm that bore the scissors and held up him, his toes not even brushing the ground as he hung in the iron grip of the Dark Knight.

"Heh, heh, Hi Bruce, wanna haircut?" Bruce glowered at him.

"Ok", Dick said slowly, "Maybe not." Bruce took the scissors from his grasp and tossed them across the cave. Dick gave a disgruntled snort and wiggled out of Bruce's grasp. "Gee", he muttered, "I was just trying to do a good deed. Can I cut your hair Bruce, please?"

"No", Bruce replied.

"Please", Dick said softly, making his eyes as big as they could get and gazing upward hopefully, "Please, please, please." Bruce started to tremble, feeling himself weaken under the pressure Dick was applying.

"No."

"Please."

"Ohh fine."

"Yea", Dick called, rushing back over to get the scissors, "just a little trim, I promise."

"You're gonna regret this dad", Jason chortled, "I can promise you that." Bruce rolled his eyes and sat down.

"Five minutes Dick, you get five minutes with my hair"

"Okey dokey Bruce, no problem." Dick raised the scissors, eager to begin.

"Oops."

"Dick, what did you do to my hair!"

"Nothing."


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce scratched the large bald spot on the back of his head. Try as he might, he could not seem to find a way to cover it. Well, he was having a special wig brought in that could facilitate things. The urge to beat Dick every time he saw him was still prevalent and Bruce didn't know how much longer he could resist it.

Now, with all four of the boys lined up in front of him, tugging awkwardly at their ties and grumbling to each other, he knew it was time to lay down the law. "Alright boys, listen up." They all looked at him, eyes accusing and irritated. He would have preferred it had they snapped to attention, but one could only ask so much of the universe.

"OK kids, here's how it's going to go tonight. You", he growled, pointing at Dick, "are going to act your age." Dick made a high, affronted noise and stepped back.

"Bruce, what are you insinuating?"

"That you often act like you're seven rather than twenty seven so do me a favor and act your age, or else." Dick gave a huff and turned up his nose. "You", Bruce continued, pointing at Jason, "are not going to murder anyone."

"Yea, yea, whatever Dad. I'll try not to shank the waiter when he puts lemon in the water I clearly asked to be lemon free."

"You've done that before?" Dick asked incredulously.

"Well", Jason replied, boredly examining his nails. "That particular waiter happened to be a mass murderer but the lemon was sort of the last straw for me." Bruce rolled his eyes.

"You", he continued, pointing to Tim, "are not going to fight with him (at this point, he indicated Damian)."

"We'll see", Tim replied, depends on how he behaves. Bruce glared at him. "Yes sir", Tim grumbled.

"And you", Bruce said, finally pointing at Damian, "are going to act like a happy, normal child with no homicidal inclinations and no family problems." Everyone snorted, snickering violently.

"What?" Damian asked, high and affronted, "You don't think I can perform the challenge Father has placed before me." Jason started giggling madly and Tim had to hide his snickers in the arm of Jason's jacket.

"Sorry little d", Dick said, "I love you dearly but lets be realistic here."

"I will", Damian replied, his tone haughty and confident, "I am perfectly able to act as the typical American child would. There is no question about that."

"Sure", Jason replied, "we believe you. You're not loonier than I am, certainly not."

"Alright, alright", Bruce said firmly, cutting them all off, "settle down. Enough is enough. We're heading to that party right now and I expect everyone on their best behavior. Is that understood?"

"Yea, yea, whatever", Jason grumbled, "can we just get on with it?"

"I want a yes sir from all of you", Bruce insisted. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Yes sir", the boys replied in unison.

"Good boys", Bruce said, a pleased expression on his face, "come, lets get in the car."

"You are all good little gentlemen, remember?"

"Yea, yea, gentlemen", Jason agreed, "whatever."

Bruce got out of the car first, slightly adjusting his wig, and ushered the others out. "Ohh", Jason said, "Snazzy, I think I ate out of their trashcans one time."

"Don't talk about that", Bruce muttered to him. Dick bounced out.

"Ohh, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, I remember you took me here once. And then I ate too many mushrooms and I got high, you remember that?"

"Yup", Bruce grumbled, "I remember that."

"Father", Damian snapped, "I don't recall you ever taking my mother to this place."

"That's because we were only together one night and I was drugged son. Come on Tim." He gave a hand to Tim, helping him out.

"Have you and Conner ever come here Tim?" Damian asked sassily.

"No", Tim replied haughtily, "although I bet you and Colin have." Damian leapt at Tim, but Bruce grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back.

"Damian! Tim!"

"He started it", Tim whimpered.

"And I finished it", Bruce replied, "behave!"

"Fine, fine", Tim grumbled, brushing himself off. He wrinkled his nose and moved away from the car so the valet could take it.

"Brucie lad", a great Irish voice bellowed. Bruce gave a small sound like a wounded platypus and turned, a large fake grin splitting his face.

"Behave, all of you", he growled under his breath and walked up to greet Mr. Tibbles, who stood a little ways off with his four sons. All of them looked refined and dignified, board expressions on their faces. Even the eleven year old, the smallest of the bunch, had an arrogant, superior expression on his face. Damian instantly hated him.

Hand twitching, he reached down for the secret sheath strapped to his hip, where his knife was kept. However, touching the sheath, he found the knife missing. Giving a yelp, he turned a tight circle, wondering if it had fallen out. "Looking for this?" Jason muttered wickedly, allowing the tip of a blade to twinkle in the bright lights of the restaurant.

"Todd", Damian hissed, "return that to me this minute!"

"I'm sure Daddy would be interested to know about your concealed weapon Damipoo." Damian's eyes bugged angrily but, due to his small stature, it simply had the effect of an enraged pug. Jason grinned malevolently.

"Come along boys, Bruce called, a horribly forced grin on his face, "lets go."

"He looks constipated", Dick muttered to Jason. Jason snickered.

"You're right about that one." The two of them walked inside, following the others. "Wow", Jason said, "look at this place."

"This is crazy."

"Yea", Dick muttered in agreement. The crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling glittered brightly, throwing tiny rainbows all over the place. The waiters were dressed impeccably and the tables were all magnificent mahogany. Damian, for his part, didn't notice any of the finery. He was more interested in staring down the eleven year old using the most evil eyes he could possibly make. The other boy glowered back. Now, Mr. Tibbles said, let me introduce you to my four boys.

"This is my eldest Vincent, followed by Alexander, William and finally, little Maximilian." Maximilian showed a single tooth, disdain evident in his eyes. Bruce smiled and gestured towards his four boys, standing together in a little pack a ways away from the table.

"I don't like him", Damian muttered.

"Want me to shank him?" Jason asked.

"Later tonight", Damian growled, "I'll help you." Jason snickered.

"Come on baby bird", Dick said gently, putting his hands on Damian's shoulders, "you don't even know him, how can you tell if you don't like him."

"I don't know", Tim replied out of the corner of his mouth, "when I first met you, I had you pegged as crazy in about half a minute." Dick rolled his eyes.

"This is Richard, my eldest", Bruce said.

"Most people just call me Dick." Everyone present snickered, except for Bruce who pulled awkwardly at his collar and Dick who loved being the center of attention, just grinned.

"Hah, hah" Bruce said, "and this is…"

"Jay-dog", Jason said, cutting him off, "from the hood."

"Ohh Jason, you're so funny", Bruce said between gritted teeth, "his name is Jason." Jason grinned sweetly and Tim snickered.

"This is Timothy", Bruce continued "and my youngest is Damian." Damian did his best to screw his small face into something resembling a smile but ended up looking more like the snarl of a small, dangerous animal. "He's so cute", Bruce chortled weakly, scooping the boy up. "Let's sit and eat."

"Father", Damian hissed, "I don't like that boy."

"Please don't kill him", Bruce whispered pleadingly. Damian humphed.

"I shall attempt only to maim him."

"Damian, if you leave that boy alone, I'll buy you that new set of knives that you wanted. I'll even let you use them on Professor Pyg for a few minutes if you want." Damian's eyes glittered.

"You've got a deal father."

"Good boy", Bruce said, "now act like a regular small child and giggle while I cuddle you for a minute."

"As you wish Father." Bruce cuddled him and Damian actually managed a pretty decent giggle before his father put him down in between Jason and Dick.

"Hey pops, you putting me next to my little homeboy Damian?"

"If you don't quite talking like that", Bruce hissed, "I swear to you I will tie you up and let Dick has his way with your hair."

"But", Jason said innocently, "I come from the hood. I'm just trying to evoke some memories from my past to entertain our distinguished guests."

"Talk normal", Bruce growled, "talk like some of the culture Alfred tried to teach you soaked in." Jason's eyes glittered wickedly and in a way Bruce did not like one bit.

"Brucie lad, come sit next to me. Your lads'll be fine."

"Hah hah, of course Tibbles, be right there."

"Don't worry Bruce, I'll keep an eye on him", Tim said, putting his hand soothingly on Bruce's arm.

"Ohh Timmy, you're my new favorite. I love you so much." He kissed Tim's head and rushed back over to entertain Tibbles, who was already telling a booming joke to an uncomfortable looking waiter.

"Ooo, Timmy, what kinda eye you gonna keep on me?" Jason growled seductivly.

"Shut up", Tim grumbled, "I'm sick of him breathing down our necks, I had to say something."

"Ahh brave Timmy", Dick said dourly, "taking a bullet for dad. You and I both know you can't do a thing." Tim rolled his eyes and Jason put an arm around him.

"Don't worry", he murmured, "we'll pretend. I'll let him think you went down fighting."


	4. Chapter 4

"So", Vincent said, facing Dick interestedly, "I'm working on my degree in law right now, hoping to take over part of the family business from my father. How about you, have you been to college?"

"Well", Dick replied, "I went to Hudson University for a while but then I dropped out after one semester and became a cop for a little bit. Now, I just do this and that, work for Wayne Industries a little too. Had a circus for a while, that was cool."

"Hmm", Vincent said dryly, "how lovely, and what about you?" He turned to Jason, who was discreetly braiding a few strands of Damian's hair.

"Ohh", Jason said, looking up, "I've never been employed, like, for a real steady honest job or anything. Didn't go to college either. Now, I just kind of live off Dad's money. I get an odd job every once in a while. I was a stripper for a few months, that was an interesting experience, let me tell you. I think everyone should spend a month or two as a stripper, it really opens up your eyes. I can get you a job lined up at this really nice place I know."

"Uhh… no thank you", Vincent said awkwardly.

"You sure?" Jason asked, "It'll be no trouble." Tim elbowed him viciously.

"Ouch", Jason snapped, "what?"

"He doesn't want to be a stripper Jay", Tim snapped, "nobody but you and possibly Dick would want to be a stripper."

"But, you never know", Jason replied, "he might make a pretty good stripper. You can't really tell until they get their clothes off."

"Jason, that's like saying I might make a good stripper."

"Ohh no, you couldn't be a stripper." Tim gave him an incredulous look. "You'd crash under pressure Timmy, I just know it."

"I thought you couldn't tell until they got their clothes off", Tim said defensively, "I might make an excellent stripper. I'd definitely make a better stripper than you."

"Are you kidding me Tim?" Jason scoffed, "You'd be so self conscious. You'd die in the stripper world."

"Ohh yea, well maybe someday I'll try it just to prove you wrong."

"No", Jason said sharply, "I forbid it." Tim gave a snort.

"I can do what I want."

"No", Jason said, adamantly, "I wouldn't be able to handle all those people looking at you like you're a piece of meat. It's shifty people that go to those places Timmy, shifty men especially. I wouldn't want those people touching you and shoving money in your pants. What if one of them tried to take you home? I'd have to kill him if he touched you Timmy and you know how Dad is about me killing people."

"I don't care Jason", Tim snapped, "If I want to be a stripper, I damn well will be."

"Nope", Jason said, shaking his head, "Dick's not going to let you either, are you Dick?"

"What am I not going to let Timmy do?" Dick asked, engrossed in fussing with Damian's tie until he heard his name.

"You're not going to allow Timmy to be a stripper, are you Dick?" Dick looked up, shocked, at Tim, who turned a little pink.

"Tim", he said incredulously, "you are not allowed to be a stripper. You are not allowed to even think stripper thoughts. Put that all out of your head this minute."

"Why couldn't I?" Tim asked defensively.

"All those shifty men would be… looking at you and Timmy, I simply couldn't allow that, you're my innocent Timmy."

"That's what I told him", Jason said.

"I can do what I want", Tim said, "you guys can't tell me what to do."

"Well, maybe we can't but dad can. Dad!" Jason bellowed at the top of his lungs so Bruce could hear him, "tell Tim he's not allowed to be a stripper." At the head of the table, Bruce gave a nervous little, "heh, heh", tugged at his tie and turned to Mr. Tibbles next to him.

"My kids, heh, heh, such jokers, aren't they?" He cast such a murderous look at Jason, the Red Hood lowered his head a little and turned back to his brothers.

"Alright Tim", he said, turning back to his younger brother, "here's the deal, we're gonna go home and you're gonna give me your best damn stripper show and if I think it's good enough, you can be a stripper."

"Fine", Tim replied adamantly, "prepare to be dazzled."

"I don't know", Jason replied, "I've seen some pretty good stripper shows in my day. I doubt anything you do could possibly compare."

"So anyway", Dick said, deciding a conversation about strippers would be counter productive to Bruce's business deal, "Max, what school do you go to?"

'It's Maximilian", the boy drawled arrogantly, "and I don't go to school, I'm home schooled by some of the most prestigious professors in the nation. I am sure that I am far more advanced than most any other child in my grade." He turned a haughty eye on Damian, who glared back with the beginnings of a snarl on his young features.

"That's nice", Dick said pleasantly, pulling Damian onto his lap, seemingly nonchalantly, "Dami here's at the top of his class, aren't you kiddo?" He smoothed Damian's hair maternally. The small boy scowled at the other across the table, hate blazing in his eyes.

Suddenly, a waiter swept up and stood in front of the eight boys at the end of the table. "May I interest you sirs in an appetizer?" he said stiffly, chest puffed out in the fashion of an arrogant restaurant you and I couldn't afford.

"Now", Jason said, turning around in his seat to face the man, "lets just make sure I've got this "that's the little meal that comes before the big meal right?"

"Yes sir", the man said.

"Alright", Jason said brightly with a wave of his hand, "bring me whatever." The waiter stared at him helplessly, not quite sure what to do.

"Just bring us all some salad and some bread please", Tim murmured helpfully.

"Yes sir", the waiter replied and swept away.

"My father is bigger than your father", Damian said suddenly.

"My father has a mustache", Maximillian replied.

"Boys", Dick said soothingly, "why don't we focus on what we have in common, like we all have fathers, we have nice homes, stuff like that." Jason rolled his eyes.

"I didn't think you could get any lamer Dick, but it's official, you have." Dick gave him a sour look. You couldn't back me up on this. Jason shook his head, a sarcastic smile on his face. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Here are your appetizers sirs", a voice above them said.

"Sweet", Jason cried, "food, food, food." A plate of salad was put down in front of him. Jason glared at it for a moment as if it were a sinister beast. "It's got lettuce", he said.

"Yea", Tim replied, taking a bite of his "it's a salad, what did you think it was going to have in it?"

"Meat", Jason replied, "excuse me sir, but could you perhaps bring me a meat salad?"

"Umm, a meat salad sir?"

"Yea", Jason replied, "you know, a good old meat salad."

"Todd", Damian hissed, "there is no such thing as a meat salad, quit embarrassing me!"

"Sorry sir", Dick said, dismissing the waiter, "don't mind him, he's just kidding." The waiter nodded and left, wishing anyone but him could be serving the table he had been assigned to. In fact, when the waiters had found out the Waynes would be eating at their restaurant, they'd had a vicious competition in order to decide who would have to serve them. Jacque had lost and subsequently was forced to deal with the well known family for a whole night. His resignation would be on his manager's table in the morning, if he survived that long.

"I was serious guys", Jason whined, "I wanted a meat salad."

"Shut up and eat some bread", Tim growled, shoving the breadbasket towards the Red Hood.

"Gee", Jason grumbled, "you all are so rude to me. Ohh, bread." He perked up considerably when he noticed the basket teeming with bread in front of him and promptly pulled it towards himself.

"You are not going to eat all of that?" Alexander asked incredulously.

"Yea I am", Jason replied, mouth full.

"Jason", Tim hissed, "that's for all of us to share."

"But, I want all the bread."

"Go find somebody else's then."

"Fine", Jason huffed, standing up at the table, "maybe I will."

"So", Bruce said, a smile on his face as though he actually cared what he was talking about, "what're your views on the internal revenue service, Mr. Tibbles?"

"Well laddie", Mr. Tibbles replied, "I believe it needs quite a bit of reform."

"Ohh, so do I", Bruce replied. Right then, just as Mr. Tibbles was about to shed some light on exactly why he thought what he did, Jason walked up and picked up the basket of bread in front of them. Both men looked at him incredulously.

"Ohh, don't mind me", Jason said, shoving an entire breadstick in his mouth, "I'm just taking all your bread." With that, he walked away. "See Tim, I told you I'd get my own damn bread!"


End file.
